Twisting Silver Tongues
by FeigningInterest
Summary: I've been dreaming about this moment. Between me and my cousin's best mate. The one I've spent the last ten years fighting, competing, and bickering with. I never knew it would hurt like this. That what I've wanted so long would be so... broken.


**AN**: I am SO rusty. My writer's block is really killing me. Though, I have an idea for an actual chapter story (gasp!) in which I don't plan on rushing. So… review! Give me opinions people. Guess what you think will happen. :-] Anything! I haven't been in the FF circuit for what feels like years.

**Disclaimer**: Is this really necessary? Well… no one said my disclaimer had to be in English. Je ne possède pas Harry Potter. Ni les caractères ont dépeint. Juste les caractères que je crée, et l'argument. J.K. Rowling est le propriétaire, car chacun sait.

* * *

I read and re-read the owl, looking over my carefully chosen words, in my neat almost perfect script. And then sigh. Deep and heavy, hoping that the release of air will help clear my fuzzy brain. It doesn't. I consider leaving my room, grabbing my cloak, and Apparating off towards Louis or Albus. Maybe even Lily for some much needed comfort. Much needed words of wisdom. Despite the fact that none of the three before mentioned cousins of mine are actually wise.

I tear my eyes away from the letter burning to be sent, and look over towards my clock.

4:16AM.

I groan, letting my head slip onto the table in front of me. Smacking the surface harder than I had intended it too.

I have to find away to word this. To send it to him. To tell him what's going on without giving it away. Without sounding stupid or as if I'm lovesick or rushing things. But I can't seem to find a good way to phrase things. To make them make sense. Not even to me, and _I_ know what's going on.

_BAM!_

I stand with a start, shrieking a jumble of swears on my way, as I frantically turn towards the intrusion. The bang comes again, this time not nearly as loud, and I look over towards the window in which it's coming from. I almost laugh as I see Cerveau d'oiseau, Louis's slightly lopsided owl, slapping himself against the glass of my window.

"Hold on, I'm coming. Try not to kill yourself before I get there." I roll my eyes at the feathered idiot, and unlatch my window to let him in. "What are you doing here so early?"

Cerveau flies into my room and lands on the shoulder of my lounge chair. He then lifts his head towards the ceiling indignantly, and sticks his leg out to me.

"Louis wrote me?" I huff, disbelievingly, "At… 4AM?"

Cerveau squawks in reply, and shakes his leg around, impatient for me to untie the letter and give him his treat already. I assess the situation, a little more frantic this time, "Is someone sick? Is someone hurt? Is Rockie having her baby, oh Merlin, give me that!"

I snatch off the letter, and unfold it hastily. Ignoring the whines and fluttering wings of the owl now waiting, rather impatiently I might add, for his reward.

_Dear Rose,_

_ So then, ignore your favorite cousin! I see how you are! No replies to my last three owls. Unless, well, that stupid bird of mine died or something. Or, well, ate them again. I sprayed this one with that sour apple gunk muggles use to keep dogs from licking themselves when they're not supposed too. So, he shouldn't eat it. Anyway, about what I was writing you for. It's the same as the first three, really. Just Roxie had her baby, it's a boy. They named him Tilly, poor thing. Tilly Thomas. We were hoping you'd come down for the shower last week, but you never replied to my owls. I'm actually quite worried. I'm close to just popping in over there to see if you're alive. I've refrained, though. In the off chance that I catch you naked and/or in coitus… that, my dear Rosie, would be the death of me I think. I'd go mental right there and jump clear out your window. Well, anyway, Grandma Molly's I think billionth 40__th__ birthday party is this Saturday, and it'd be a sin of you to miss it. Reply this time, if you don't mind. _

_I suppose I love you well enough,  
__Louis_

I look up from the letter, and glare daggers at the stupid owl still hooting for his treat. "You ate my other letters, you stupid bird!"

I walk over the refrigerator and take out one of the ancient pickles living there in the back and toss it to the worthless bird. "There, now shut up."

I walk back to my desk, looking for my parchment and quill, and begin writing to my cousin.

_Dear Louis,_

_ I hate your bird. And I can't believe I missed out on Roxie's baby! Is he at least cute? He has to be at least cute if he wants to survive his teen years with a name like Tilly. I'll be there at Grandma Molly's billionth 40__th__ birthday party, I promise. I never miss them, you know. And there's not much a chance of you catching me either naked or in coitus at 5:18AM. Normal people aren't even alive this early in the morning. Well, some are. But only for work purposes I'd think. And school. But none of them are in coitus. That's taking early bird to a new, and nastier, extreme, don't cha think? Anyway, I have Roxie's shower present and Grandma Molly's birthday present, so I'll bring the both of them. And this is me reminding you to buy Gram's birthday present. Ahem. And is it at the Burrow like it always is? Her party? Well, this is me writing back to the only letter I've received from you, my dear, only slightly mentally deprived, cousin. _

_A letter or two short of sincerity,  
__Rose_

I wait for the ink to dry, and then roll up my letter. I tie it with one my favorite ribbons, so Louis will know it's me from the moment he sees it, and try to get the flailing, dim-witted, slightly lopsided bird of his to give me his foot so I can attach the letter to it.

Ten minutes later, and it's secure. Sprayed with enough of my perfume to keep the owl from eating it like he did the others. And, with a thud or two against my glass trying to get out, I send Cerveau d'oiseau out into the early morning sky. Still dark, but lighting slightly around the edges of the sky.

I smile at the thought of seeing of my family again, but one glance back at the unfinished letter sitting abandoned on my desk, and all thoughts of happy family time flutter to the back of my mind.

I still can't find the words to tell him…

Maybe I can tell him there… at my grandmother's party. He should be there. Being semi- part of the family now.

Maybe telling him eye-to-eye will be better for the both of us.

Maybe I'll find the words when I see him again.


End file.
